Saturday, October 26, 2013

Little Green Men....

I've always hated little green men.  Ever since the days of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians I've neither trusted nor liked them.  And I especially don't like them when they are armed with a Baker rifle and can sit outside of musket range and inflict a small but steady drain of casualties.  But I digress.

Spain, 1809 and the British are moving.  Part of an on-going campaign I make the decisions for Marechal Soult outside Oporto.  So Portugal really.  The Iberian Peninsula.  You get the idea. 

The French forces were badly mangled in the last engagement so while one division licks their wounds in Oporto another boldly holds the south side of the river for future operations.  Various light cavalry actively patrol the d'Ouro river to prevent surprises while we hold the ground near to the Arrabida Bridge.

We have 12 battalions, fresh and ready to fight, supported by Vistula Uhlans, Dragoons, Chasseurs and some Cuirassiers.  Ten cannons complete our army.

We are "attacked" by oodles of skirmishers.  We see hardly any formed troops.  Howitzer shells cut huge swaths in our ranks.  Some new units of Portuguese attempt to turn our left flank.  Given the choice of dying slowly in place, retiring or attacking, we naturally attack.  I'll let the pictures tell the story, click to enlarge.  Rules are modified Batailles de l'Ancien Regimes for the Napoleonic era.


In the end the cavalry on both sides was never really engaged except to run down some Portuguese skirmishers, our attack penetrated deep and took some buildings but was stopped, and their attack failed.  Casualties were only 3:2 against us, so..... la victoire?  No worse than a draw.  But a pattern is forming.  Time to start painting some Young Guard battalions and more cannons.


  1. Replies
    1. Mayhaps you need to walk a mile in our sabots to understand.